


The Bird in the Willow

by JIN (mockingbird)



Series: The Birds [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:37:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingbird/pseuds/JIN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nettie knows. Second in The Birds series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bird in the Willow

**Author's Note:**

> This one is special to me. I have no idea why .... something about Nettie, I guess.

Nettie couldn’t say exactly when she knew. There was no lightening bolt of awareness, no sudden shock of enlightenment. No, it was more like a journey of small moments, where *it couldn’t be* led to *perhaps*, and finally arrived at *yes, yes, of course*.

It seemed so obvious now. Hidden in plain sight, like a bird in the willow: a soft flutter of sound, a slight shifting of shadows, and maybe, maybe there was something there. And then, when the bird took flight, it was so clear, so apparent that it was there all along.

Now that she knew, the signs were everywhere. In the laugh lines around his eyes, deepening with every passing day; in the lightness of his tread and the easing of his crooked spine; in the quiet rasp of his voice - filled with new wonder - as he sat at her table, his hand wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee.

Vin Tanner was in love. 

And it broke her heart, for nothing good could come of it. 

Nettie prided herself on her forward-thinking, on her acceptance of all mankind, no matter their color or creed or persuasion. And she was ferocious in her determination to protect those she loved. But nothing she did or thought or said could save this man she’d come to revere as kin. Nothing.

Damn that Chris Larabee and his flinty grin. Those keen eyes and tight pants sparked nothing in her - and age had nothing to do with it. She just knew his type; had learned long ago how to read his kind. Oh, she knew, too, that underneath that spitfire, devil-may-care attitude he wore like a badge, he was a good man - though not half as good as her Vin. But goodness wouldn’t be enough for either of them if word got out. 

She thought back to an afternoon, weeks before. Vin had come, like he was wont to do, and repaired some things around the house. She didn’t need the help, but she would have to be damn stupid to turn him away. The man worked like a horse for nothing more than a hot meal. He was easy to be around, too - didn’t talk unless he had something to say - not to mention being easy on the eyes. She might be old but she wasn’t blind, and Vin Tanner was real nice to look at, to her way of thinking.

Apparently to Chris Larabee’s way of thinking, too, considering the long minutes the man spent watching Vin swing an ax that day. She’d gone to the window when she heard a rider approach, and she’d nearly gone back to her work when she noted that the rider was Chris. But something had kept her there, kept her watching Chris while he watched Vin. Larabee stayed mounted, relaxed in the saddle, and something on his face, something . . .

After a few minutes, Vin paused in his work, slung his head back and gave Chris a wide smile. Chris slipped off his saddle and met Vin with an outstretched arm. A familiar greeting, unique to the two men, and Nettie had seen it often enough. This time, though, they lingered with arms linked and eyes only for each other.

The bird flitted in the willow - but surely not. Surely not. She convinced herself it was the afternoon sun playing against the folds of her curtains that shaded her thoughts and colored her mind. 

Chris Larabee just wasn’t the type, even if he’d had a rough time after that Gaines woman shattered his life for a second time. He wouldn’t accept an ounce of sympathy, though, even if it was dipped in gold or the finest whiskey, and Nettie respected him for that. He’d picked himself up and moved on, though she suspected Mrs. Gaines might should sleep with one eye open for the rest of her miserable life. 

How he’d managed to move on was a mystery the entire town whispered about when the seven weren’t in earshot. Over the last few months, the gunslinger’s black moods had become rare, and the inevitable conclusion was that he’d found another woman to satisfy his well-publicized desires.

It was supposed to be Mary Travis. The beautiful young widow had spent many an afternoon talking around her attraction for the gunfighter. Poor thing was confused, and who could blame her? Larabee seemed interested for a time. And then he wasn’t. With no rational explanation for what had changed.

But even when Nettie caught Vin and Chris in the livery just days after the incident at her home, she couldn’t give wings to the bird. They were just talking, after all, heads bent close, shoulders touching. Chris wrapped his hand around Vin’s neck and squeezed, and maybe, maybe Vin leaned into his touch. 

But they were friends, good friends. Nothing more. And yet . . .

Vin took a tumble off a roof a few weeks later. Nettie happened to be in town, but she mercifully didn’t see him fall. Her old heart would have stopped for sure, if she had. But she saw Chris afterwards, when she’d headed up those stairs to check on her boy. The man was standing tall on the deck outside the clinic door, smoking a cheroot, looking for all the world like he was just fine. But his hands were shaking. 

That bird was chirping loudly in her ear, telling her things she didn’t want to know.

After that, she looked for it. She’d either shake that bird from the tree or prove it to be her imagination - and how she prayed for the latter. But the signs kept coming, subtle to be sure, but unmistakable, until she could no longer deny what she knew to be true.

Vin would love him deeply; he could do no less. He was made for going all in, for giving heart, soul, breath and blood. He’d risked his life time and again for those he barely knew - how much more would he give to those he loved?

And Chris, of course, could give only the opposite: the charred remains, the battered remnants. Oh, she had no doubt that Chris found pleasure in Vin’s company; that he, in fact, cared for Vin as much as he could, as much as he was able. 

But their’s would be an unequal alliance, a bitterly unbalanced give-and-take, and it didn’t take a person with her age or wisdom to know who would come out on the losing side.

That wasn’t the worst of it, however, not by half. Vin could take care of himself, though she doubted he’d had much experience turning over his heart to another. No, the worst was the danger he and Chris had put themselves in. She’d long ago learned that holding onto life was useless; nothing anyone could do to hold death at the door when the time came. But she didn’t want to lose Vin to an angry mob; his name - his precious name - tarnished and shamed by misunderstanding and hate. 

No, Vin Tanner should die the noble death he’d earned. And he would, if she could help it. She would keep this secret - their secret - to her grave. 

She’d never spoken of this to Vin, of course, though perhaps she’d hinted. She’d sat by him at her table, watched his face color when she mentioned how often he wore a smile nowadays. She saw, too, the bird soaring in the blue of his eyes, and she wanted to weep for this wonderful, terrible, deadly love he held for a gunslinger. For a man. 

She wanted to take Chris to task for what he’d done - for she was certain he had brought this on them. Vulnerable he might be, but that was no excuse. Vin was blameless because she could see him no other way. Might not be fair, but she’d learned who Vin Tanner was, what he was made of, and she knew that he could no more refuse Chris Larabee than he could stand by and watch the lynching of an innocent man - or sit back while a tyrant robbed an old woman of her land. 

Yes, she wanted to take him to task. And now, with fate playing into her hands, she would. She saw Chris enter the livery as she left the newspaper office, and she followed him. Her dander was up, by God, and she would speak her mind.

Chris turned towards her as she entered the structure, tipped his head and grinned. “Mrs. Wells.”

Alright, so maybe he was pleasing to look at, she reluctantly acknowledged - had a smile that lit up his face, now that she took a moment to notice. But that didn’t alter what she’d come to say. She marched up to him, tilted her head to meet his eyes, and stated, “You hurt that boy and I’ll add another notch to my spencer carbine. You understand me?”

Surprise raised his brows, but he recovered quickly. He was as smart as he was pretty, she thought, for he knew he’d been caught red-handed. “I hurt him,” he said, “and I’ll let you shoot me with my own gun.”

It was an honest response, for she was sure he meant it. But all she could see was the futility of this forbidden affair, the danger - the very real possibility that all the seven had become, all they had changed, all they had accomplished would be lost. 

That Vin Tanner would be lost.

She backed away and lowered her head. She was wrong to confront him; wrong to say it out loud, to acknowledge it in any way. She would be partly to blame when it all fell down around them, and she cursed her run-away tongue. 

Let the bird lie. Let it hide amongst the leaves and never, never take flight again. 

She turned away, determined to hide her fear from him. But he came up behind her, gently gripped her shoulder and turned her towards him. “I won’t let anything happen to him. I swear it on my life.”

She nodded. What else could she do? Could she tell him that his oath was meaningless? For hadn’t he promised the same to his wife and child? He had no control over such things. 

But she wasn’t cruel. No good would come from confronting him with his fallibility. And she suspected he knew the truth, anyway - that his words served no purpose but to comfort her. 

She started to turn away again, but he stopped her with a whisper. “Nettie.” 

She met his eyes and knew immediately that she had it wrong. It was all in for both of them. And as badly as she wanted to celebrate that fact for Vin - wanted to feel joy and relief that his love was returned - she could not. 

Moisture filled her eyes as she placed a weathered hand on Chris’ arm and said, “This cannot end well.” 

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Nothing ends well. Death claims us all, sooner or later.”

It was so. They were as powerless against death as they were against love.

She left then, with heaviness in her heart, for she knew the bird would fly too close to the sun. 

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

 

The End


End file.
